


Crimson Shadows

by perseusjacksonjasongrace



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, OC's - Freeform, Please read notes, There is a lot going on, explicit content, mature themes, prepare for a ride, vampire jercy, vampire jercy au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:21:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28403928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perseusjacksonjasongrace/pseuds/perseusjacksonjasongrace
Summary: Perseus Jackson is an immortal with fangs and he is all the better for it, prettier too. Jason Grace is a dissatisfied masters student, just trying to make his parents proud. When they meet in a club, they are nothing but strangers with bright eyes and wicked smiles. But it is not long before Jason finds out what precisely hides in the crimson shadows.
Relationships: jercy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone this is my brand new fic! It's slow going because the chapters seem to make themselves as long as circles. There are certain chapters that are not intended for persons under the age of 18 so please read the notes at the beginning. And i hope you enjoy because vamp!Percy is d e l i c i o u s.  
> Navigating the fic  
> Months: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto  
> Days of the Week: Aquila, Lyra, Auriga, Draco, Orion, Mensa  
> Seasons: Baridi (W); Caldu (S); Mezi (between)  
> OC pronunciations: Elouan || El-oh-uhn; Keeya || Key-ah; Hoku ||Ho-koo; Serafina || Ser-ah-fee-na; Aarush || Aah-roosh

The evening air is ripe with the poison of the city. Vendors pack up their carts of hotdogs and sweet packets and the flying pages of magazines, more than ready to go home after another long, tiresome, blistering hot day. People shuffle along, scuffing the pavement in that way that says they’re already sick and tired of the week and it’s only Aquila, the first day. The smell of unclean air- tobacco and candyfloss, a vape of course- drifts between people’s fisted fingers like a vile wind made just to kill you. The sun has passed the tallest building in _Masina_ , and sinks steadily towards the _Zafir_ river. A small almost unnoticeable breeze hurries over the shorter concrete slabs of home and office, trying as hard as it might to land somewhere that loves it; the trees, or the grass, it’ll even settle for a window flower pot. But no luck, for it is slapped again and again with hard, cold, grey slabs before dying against them in a soft sigh.

A person steps out of the backdoor of a restaurant, tightening a stained apron and scowling as they throw a box in the dumpster across the alley. They feel the lost breeze like a caress on their cheek, but they don’t do anything about it, uncaring of wind, and water, and flowers, and life. Or at least that is the fate of humans, to not care for anything but themselves, and this one does not seem any different. There are much more pressing matters at hand. It is a delight, sinful delicious delight, then when a shadow moves past that reeking, green dump and slips in behind a scowling person and swinging door.

The kitchen they enter is hot. So hot it feels like the inside of an oven. And there is noise coming from everything. Dirty cutlery being shoved into a large plastic bin for washing. Sizzling pans at every stove. The smooth cut of vegetables on the metal table. The hiss of gas as it opens and a flame sputters to life. The bang of the pot as it hits the stove. The splash of plates as they fall into soapy water. And the shouting is a surround sound speaker, directly into your eardrums. ‘ _To your left.’ ‘The bechamel.’ ‘Behind you.’ ‘Watch the plate.’ ‘Onions chopped.’ ‘Make way for the soup.’ Someone check this!_ The large silver doors on the far end slam open and a flustered waiter stumbles in. “I need the gnocchi at table nine or I need hard drugs.” They say, voice loud, rushed, but not annoyed.

Someone laughs, and the sound disappears under splattering oil. “I have coke in the car but you have to wait till after my shift.”

The waiter, the cooks, the cleaners, huff a laugh and for one brief moment it is the loudest sound in the kitchen and then an over-boiling pot makes the flames burst and everyone is back to that familiar chaos. Someone hands the waiter a gleaming white bowl with steaming, tomatoey gnocchi pooled perfectly in it; a small leaf of basil decorates the top like a ridiculous green hat. The waiter gives a relieved smile and rushes out with breathless concern. Must get it to table nine, now!

A shadow moves away from the huge refrigerator and slips into the pantry. A chef, decked in a black buttoned apron and flushed red cheeks lunges into the pantry, already reaching for a new packet of something. It’s too far, they have to go further in, step on the sliding ladder. They climb up a rung, two, and reach, reach, reach, Their hand closes around a crinkling bag of long-grain rice and they smile in satisfaction. With misplaced efficiency they hop down from the ladder, and land on a bag of potatoes, falling before they can help it. Someone catches them.

The first thing they see is green eyes, as bright and unnerving as shining emeralds at the bottom of a cursed sea. And then a face, beautiful, so unbelievably, unnaturally beautiful with sharp angles and full lips and rich copper brown skin. And then finally a wide, bright smile, full of gleaming teeth and sharp fangs.

“What is your name darling?” The lush, pink mouth moves, giving them flashes of those pretty teeth. And that voice is deep, and rolling, and promises seduction of the richest kind.

“Agreya,” They mutter, blinking, shocked, hypnotised.

“Thank you for this meal.” He smiles, and the chef knows they'll follow those sparkling green eyes to the middle of the desert.

He leans down, kisses their neck. There’s a sharp sting like being splashed with hot oil, or discovering a tiny cut when you squeeze a lemon. And then there is nothing. Inky blackness and swirls of red and heat and desire, but there is no feeling.

He lifts his head up, running his tongue over red-stained teeth. “You should eat more protein.” His mouth lifts at the corner as his face hides a laugh.

He kisses their forehead ever so softly, and they fall apart at the seams. “Goodbye Agreya.”

There are only shadows and food and looming ladders. Agreya steps over the bag of potatoes, rice still clutched in their hand, and staggers into the ever bustling kitchen.

“There you are!” Someone exclaims, grabbing the packet from their hand and racing to another station.

“Agreya, what the hell is on your neck, it looks like you stabbed yourself with a fork. Jesus, get yourself cleaned up and help with the lentil soup. We’ve got a full house tonight.”

Agreya blinks, rubs their eyes, wipes the crimson stain on their neck and just like that the world comes back into focus. They are shocked out of the daze, brought on by… by… by…

“Agreya you good?”

“Yea,” They smile, and start washing lentils.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!


	2. Emerald Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Navigating the fic  
> Months: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto  
> Days of the Week: Aquila, Lyra, Auriga, Draco, Orion, Mensa  
> Seasons: Baridi (W); Caldu (S); Mezi (between)  
> OC pronunciations: Elouan || El-oh-uhn; Keeya || Key-ah; Hoku ||Ho-koo; Serafina || Ser-ah-fee-na; Aarush || Aah-roosh
> 
> This chapter contains explicit content and is not intended for persons under the age of 18. Discretion is advised.

> _We can have in life but one great experience at best, and the secret to life is to reproduce that experience as often as possible._

> _The Portrait of Dorian Gray// Oscar Wilde_

_You have to come._

Jason scowls at the text on his phone, willing it with all his grumpiness to go away. He doesn’t _have_ to do anything. Except to grade these essays, and get into the shower, and maybe catch up on the shows he’s regretfully had to miss these last few days. He hates being busy. There’s never any time to be human.

Another obnoxious buzz sounds from his phone and he debates throwing it out his bedroom window. He reads the message.

_Come on, you can get some good-_

He doesn’t bother to read the rest. Instead he furiously swipes at the screen and types out a reply. _Have some grace, you fucker._

A response comes within two deep breaths. _I'm trying to but you’re being unreasonably stubborn._

He frowns, confused, and then it dawns on him clear and annoying what his friend means. _Haha_.

_Will you be there?_

He looks around at his shoddy student apartment, made bearable only by the soft colour of the plants standing on the shelf, and the throw pillows he got as a housewarming gift from his cousin. She’ll be there tonight. He’s sure clad in her mom jeans, and turtle-neck sweater, and thick rimmed glasses looking like she’d rather be in a library or pouring over her latest drawings. But he also knows she’ll nurse a lemonade spritzer and watch their friends clown around and laugh softly to herself. And when someone inevitably pulls her onto the dancefloor she’ll let them with faux reluctance before proceeding to let her blonde curls down and let loose. But he is not his cousin and he cannot enjoy things when he’s not in the mood for them.

The problem is, he hasn’t been in the mood for a night out in weeks. And his friend’s are starting to get slightly worried. Okay, extremely worried. He’s sure one of these days they’re going to bust down his door, put mascara on his eyelashes, shove him into his favourite jeans and drag him to a club. The thought makes him laugh, enough that he knows he doesn’t hate the idea. Maybe he should go out. Maybe it’ll get him out of this funk. This life-isn’t-interesting-and-i-don’t-know-what-i’m-doing-or-where-im-going funk. It’s concerning since he’s halfway through a masters degree in fictional literature and poetry, but not enough that he’s panicked about it yet. No. It’s just been this low thrum irritation that doesn’t seem to leave him unless he’s three cycles into REM sleep.

_If you don’t answer me in the next second I'm going to assume it’s a yes and I will pitch up at your house and drag you by your pretty blonde hair._

The message makes him smile and roll his eyes because it’s dramatic. He doesn’t have any doubt that’s what will happen anyway.

_It's not blonde._ Is his only response.

_What?_

And then, before he can reply: _Are you having a stroke? Should I call the ambulance? Did you go colourblind?_

He ignores the questions, _I’ll be there tonight._

His bathroom is made of hot steam and cool tile when he finally steps out of the shower. The mirror usually holds his reflection so delicately he sometimes thinks if he touches it it’ll shatter to reveal the real him. But today it is opaque with evidence of the heat and he lifts a finger to smudge a slice of poetry onto it.

_there is power in peace._

The writing is loopy and skew and starts to disappear almost as soon as he pulls his hand away but the words still reverberate in his bones. Peace. It echoes. That must be the true meaning of life.

A loud ring echoes through his apartment. His doorbell. Too bad peace is as unattainable as permanent happiness, or consistent love. He pads through the space, wincing as his bare feet touch the icy tiles of the kitchen.

“Who is it?” He mutters into the intercom next to his front door.

“Who do you think?” You know like three people and two of them are family

He allows an eye roll, and a stubborn smile. “I’m leaving you out there.”

“Don’t you dare you prick. It is negative one hundred degrees out here and I swear if my ass falls off from frostbite I'm dragging you to do an ass-transplant.”

“Do you ever stop talking crap?” His sigh is amusement and casualness and normality.

“No, now let me the hell up before i really do-”

Jason cuts his friend off with the loud zing of the gate and chuckles at the faint cursing he can still hear through the com. He leaves the door unlocked and goes back to getting ready. Jeans, dark, ripped, and ass-hugging lie on his bed, along with a black button up shirt that glitters with holographic moons if you move just right. He brushes his hair, still startling slightly at the new colour, and then lets it fall in its usual mess. As he shoves on underwear the front door creaks open.

“I’m here and i’m hungry.”

“I’m in the bedroom and you know where the kitchen is.”

“Am i not a guest in this home?” He hears the disgusted tone and holds in a laugh. “You should be feeding me.”

“If you’re a guest i’m the bloody Queen of Genovia.”

“That’s Anne Hathaway don't get carried away with yourself.”

He snorts and shoves himself into his jeans, cursing as his foot gets caught in one of the rips by the knee.

“Are you almost-” A strangled noise cuts off the question and Jason turns to see Leo Valdez, his best friend, favourite irritation, and prettiest kisser on this side of the clouds, staring at him like he’s grown three heads.

“What the actual fuck have you done to your hair?” Leo squeaks.

“Do you not like it?” He raises a blonde brow, blue eyes twinkling with mischief and reserved worry. What if he doesn't? So what if he doesn't! But what if?

“God no you’re twenty times more gorgeous now and I am only seeing the downsides to this.” His friend breathes, stumbling closer as if in a daze.

A russet brown hand reaches for him, almost unaware of its actions, and then it sinks into his bright cerulean blue hair and Jason has to close his eyes to the contact. Leo’s fingers are warm, as usual, and grip him just hard enough that he can feel the tingling in his scalp. Neither of them say anything for a while, just stand there, him in jeans and not much else and his friend with calloused, exploring fingers tangled in his blue mane.

“God it’s perfect.”

“You really like it?” His eyes are still closed but he can feel the awe in Leo’s voice.

“Where did you find this colour? It looks like you shoved your head into the sky.”

He grunts in amusement, feeling sated and heavy and comfortable.

“When did you do this?”

And it deigns a response because he has never been the type to spontaneously dye his hair. “Two days ago.”

“Why?”

“I can’t answer that yet.” The way he says it tells his friend that it’s not because he’s keeping it a secret; it’s because he doesn’t know himself.

“Do you love it?”

“More than anything.”

“If we leave the club tonight with tattoos i’m taking you on holiday to Bali, and possibly booking a trip to a therapist.”

He opens his eyes at that, laughing deeply. “Sit your ass down and let me get ready.”

That sparks an indignant fire in Leo’s earthy, hypnotic eyes, “You’re lucky I have an ass to sit on.”

Jason doesn’t bother to reply as he slips on his shirt and makes swift work of the buttons. He disappears into the bathroom to swipe mascara across his lashes and make sure his teeth don’t have anything stuck in them. A gleam catches the corner of his eye and he turns to see his silver chain piled on the windowsill, as if calling to him. With a grin that lights up the softness in his face he grabs the jewellery and escapes the still steaming room.

“Would you put this on for me?”

Leo takes it from his outstretched palm and motions for him to turn around. His friend isn’t much shorter than him but he feels their height difference distinctly when Leo’s breath fans at the nape of his neck. Fingers are soft and gentle as the cool metal drags over his throat and brushes against his collarbones as it settles. There’s a soft click and a breathy exhale before the heat at his back is gone. He steels himself and turns around with a soft thanks.

“Ready?”

“Let me just grab my wallet, my shoes are at the door.”

They eventually make their way out his apartment and down to the visitors parking where Leo’s motorbike awaits them.

“You’re not drinking tonight?”

“Frank will take it home. He’s meeting us there.”

He nods, satisfied that none of his friends will be participating in life-endangering activities.

The ride, vibrating and freeing, windy and alive, is short but it is enough to get Jason’s blood racing and mind blank. This is living.

“Who’s meeting us here?”

“Annabeth, Frank, Hazel, and Piper.”

He whips to face his friend as they walk towards the thrumming club, “Piper?”

“Should i have given you forewarning?” Leo’s smirk drips smugness.

“I thought she was in _Lumberg_.” The snowy mountains, grey skies, bitter wind, and cozy fireplaces flash through his mind in memory of the winter wonderland.

“She came back yesterday, said she finished her expedition early.”

He doesn't have the chance to reply because suddenly they’re at the doors and the security is grunting about their IDs. It comes as no surprise to either of them so they fish it out of their pockets and hand them over with bored expressions. The bouncer looks at the cards, them, the cards, and then gives another grunt as he hands them back and tosses his head as permission to head in.

With beaming thank you’s they step past his broad shoulders and come face to face with energy. It is the colour of neon rainbows, and feels like stepping on the very home of music. Each note is a reverbnation through their feet, directly to their hearts. And the smell of hookah pipes, weed, tobacco, and alcohol rush through their heads at dizzying speeds. But it is the people, singing, and screaming, and laughing, and dancing that truly sparks the stardust in his veins. He feels, as he always does, as if he is made of human connection and escapism. 

“I see them.” Leo shouts over the noise.

Jason grabs his hand and lets him drag them through the crowds, until they stop abruptly at a small couch where so many of the people he loves are lounging and laughing, drinks dangling from their fingers like royalty.

“Hello darling.” Piper Mclean drawls, as she looks up at them with heavy dark eyes.

“Didn’t i tell you to keep your horrible weather to yourself?” Leo scowls at her by way of greeting.

She rolls her eyes, but there is a smile dancing at her lips. 

“Hello everyone,” Jason waves to all of them before finding a spot between Hazel and Piper and squashing himself down.

“Well, make yourself comfortable why don’t you.” Hazel pretends to be irritated. She never really is. Not with him anyway.

“Where’s my darling cousin?” He frowns, trying to spot a familiar head of blonde curls.

“She’s gone with her girlfriend to the bathroom.” Frank mumbles, behind a glass of water.

“What have you done to your hair Grace?” Piper asks in the same wonder that Leo possessed.

“Stuck it in the sky,” He scrunches his nose teasingly.

“It certainly looks like it.” She mutters, but there is only love and adoration and happiness pooling in her eyes. He almost can’t stand it, but he doesn’t attempt to look away.

“Want to grab a drink?” She asks softly, tinkling the ice in her now empty glass.

All Jason can do is nod as he lets her intertwine their fingers and tug him to the bar. He feels breathless, like being at the top of a rollercoaster where everything is spread out before him in the scariest, most thrilling way possible. He can feel the pulse of her fingers as their grip tightens, and it is the only thing keeping him together. She turns back to make sure he’s still there- as if he would be anywhere else- and then faces the front again a secret smile on her soft lips.

Someone slams into his shoulder and he stumbles. He looks up, already mumbling a sorry. His gaze clashes with eyes so wildly green it sends a shockwave through his nerves that hurtle him to the middle of a forest. The stranger smiles with beautiful white teeth and then they’re gone. Piper hits the bar and brings him with her in a rush of excited babble.

“What do you want?” 

And the world comes back to him all at once. He is screaming down the rollercoaster. He is in a club. He is with Piper. He is ready.

“I’ll have the Shit-Shock and get a Burning-Brandy for Leo.”

She smiles and it looks like the sun, she laughs and a new constellation bursts before his eyes, she brushes the pad of her thumb against his cheek and he is no longer real.

“We should dance after this.” He breathes, words caught in his lungs.

“Yes.” She says firmly, and it feels like they start a story.

He throws back his drink faster than his body is prepared for. A burn like cold fire, and warm knives races down his throat and he’s sure if he opened his mouth flames would shoot out. The thought makes him smile; an unconscious lost sort of smile that doesn't require any effort to appear, or stay.

“Come on,” Piper breathes in his ear, and he is keenly aware of how close they are. He is sure he can feel the heat of her skin, and he blames it on the alcohol instead. They stumble back to their friends, drunk on nothing but loud music and intimacy. Reyna and Annabeth have returned, hand in hand and staring at each other adoringly. He makes a face at them and they return it with matching vulgar gestures.

Jason shoves an ice-cold glass in Leo’s hands. “You guys coming to dance?”

“Hell yes!” Hazel squeals, jumping up with the excitement of a child. He wants to laugh at her cuteness. He knows he’ll get punched in the balls for it.

“You coming Annabeth?” Leo and Piper ask at the same time, twin smirks on their beautiful faces.

His cousin rolls her eyes but lets them drag her up and onto the dance floor. Reyna smacks her ass and trails behind them, chatting softly to Frank.

They weave their way to the middle, where space is a joke and the music is a defibrillator, and the people are alive, alive, alive. 

A song starts with a low thrumming bass that begins in his shoes and travels up his body in first class. He throws his arms up and sways, waiting for the drop, for the moment his limbs become an extension of the air, his mind a drowning organ in nothing but the moment. The song climbs, higher, higher, so high he can almost touch it with his tongue. Someone presses their back against him, and he looks down to see Leo, sparkling brown eyes and a grin that promises delight reflecting back. Jason laughs, the sound stolen by the music, and wraps strong fingers around his friend’s hip. They move as one, as fluid as a river, as crackling as fire, as dramatic as thunder and it feels perfect. Both his hands grip Leo’s waist as they guide that slender writhing body against him. The music molds around them like they are the sun, like they are gravity itself. He can faintly hear his friends, strangers, sinners, hollering at the obscene sight but they sound so far away he can't be bothered to tune them in. 

“Gods,” Leo arches back up until his black curls are tickling Jason’s neck. “I love the way you dance. I feel like we’re the only people in the world.”

His blue eyes flare, “Maybe we are.”

His friend laughs into his skin, full of loving amusement. “Not tonight beautiful boy. You have a lady waiting for you to look at her like that.”

Their gazes flick across the floor, landing on the person in question. Piper Mclean has her hands thrown in the air and a look of pure bliss on her face as she dances next to Annabeth. The contours of her body, lush thighs, hips you could grab with both hands, and a belly as soft as pillow, catch in the strobe lights and Jason feels every part of him go hard. Every _single_ part. Leo feels it too because he laughs again, turning so they are close enough for their lips to brush together. He smiles against Jason’s golden cheek, before stepping away and into the arms of the next man. Frank as it so happens to be. 

He barely registers the loss of heat because his blood pumps thick and blistering in his veins as he glides across the space. Piper doesn’t even acknowledge him as he draws near, but he knows she knows he is there. For she angles her body ever so slightly so that when they finally make contact she falls directly into his arms.

“You look like you’re having fun.” He whispers in her hair, unable to resist nipping her earlobe as he draws back.

She barely suppresses a shiver when their eyes clash, blue and brown, flecks of white gold and earth silver catching light.

“Are you finally giving me the dance you promised?”

He raised a brow, “Giving you a dance?”

“Yes,” And he expects she wanted to sound more coy and less breathy. He loves it all the same.

“Dance with me _Oorage_.” Her mouth forms the perfect O as she glitters out the word and he falls into a volcano.

They pull each other closer, one of her legs between his, their chests flush together, her hands tangled in his blue hair, and his lips grazing her exposed collarbone. They aren’t really moving in any way that matters but it doesn’t bother them because they are one body, filled with energy and light and lust. Where one begins the other does too. There is no end. The song that fills their heads pushes them over the edge. It drips desire and franticness and bad decisions. It is perfect. Jason body-rolls into Piper, and she throws her head back in a silent gasp as the hard planes of him hit all the soft places of her. She pulls his head into her neck and undulates against his leg. They work like that, forward and back, rippling and sighing, and closer, closer, closer.

Someone puts their hands on each of their necks and turns them to look to their left. Frank. His black eyes smiling, mischief pulling at his lips. “Before you get us kicked out for public indecency. Let’s go get a drink.”

“Why don’t you join us instead?” Jason’s voice is hoarse with lust. 

Their friend’s expression turns dark, _delicious_. “Maybe next time.”

And he wants to pull Frank in and kiss him with the force of a bursting dam. He gets the impression their large, quiet friend wouldn’t mind. He looks back to Piper whose pupils are blown, and realises she wouldn’t mind either. He files that information away for later.

“Let’s go get wasted.” He grins as pretty as an angel. The one drink he’d sloshed back when they arrived had burned to nothing in his bloodstream, evaporated from the hour of dancing.

When they finally get to the bar, their friend group are all crowded around, Leo sitting on the wood counter, laughing at something Reyna said, and Hazel standing between his legs, leaning comfortably into him. Annabeth flops down on a stool and immediately presses her back into her girlfriend’s chest. Reyna snakes an arm around the blonde and nuzzles her neck before continuing their conversation. The bartender stands on the countertop, which probably isn’t hygienic but nobody cares enough to point it out, and grins at the people crowded around.

“Pretty, pretty living and dead,” He sings, “How are you doing darlings of _Roshani_?” 

The crowd whoops, screams, spills over with excitement as they connect themselves to their city in a single moment; a unity brought on by a bubbling bartender, many intoxicated people, pounding music, and an atmosphere that screams ‘we are one and the same.’

“Guess what time it is?” He waggles his thick, dark eyebrows. Jason traces a bead of sweat with his eyes as it runs down the man’s dark skin. He bites his tongue.

“It’s time for…” The man continues, relishing in the piercing eyes tracing his every move, “The Body Bar!”

The roar that ensues could deafen cities. People are pushed forward by their friends, offered up as lambs to their slaughter. A few others move away. The bartender bellows, glee sparking his black eyes. “Let’s see,” He looks around, gaze bouncing over the crowd with precision and amusement.

“You,” He points to a woman who is being lifted onto the shoulders of one of her friends, and laughing like tomorrow may never come. She scrambles onto the bar and is suddenly awash in the yellow light. She is a short black lady, with tight curls bouncing in front of her face, which is all angles and sharpness in that pretty way that modelling agencies tend to gush over. But he doesn’t register much more about her, caught up in the anticipation of finding the next victim. The bartender takes his time, staring people down and winking as they giggle under his intensity. Jason’s eyes leave him briefly, checking on his friends, making sure they’re all together, that nobody had gotten lost in the surge of this little moment.

“You,” He hears the bartender, “With the blue hair.”

It takes him a while, unused to being described with blue hair. A gleaming shove from Leo spurs him into action.

“Dude!” His friend yells in his ear, “Get your pretty ass up there.”

“Me?” He points a golden hand to his chest, shock bright on his face.

“Yes pretty boy,” The bartender winks, “You with your electric blue hair.”

With a buzz of nerves that grow and grow and grow until they become excitement, Jason’s face breaks into a wide smile and he climbs onto the counter.

“Right,” The bartender drags the two of them together. The lady’s small frame, dwarfed further by his large one, stumbles into him and he catches her with a single hand on her arm.

“Hi,” He whispers, smiling gently, “I’m Jason. Are you okay?”

“Wonderful thank you,” She grins, “And i’m Fana.”

“That’s beautiful.”

She winks, “I’ll tell my mother.”

“Alright you too,” The bartender stands next to them, “Enough flirting.” That elicits a murmur of amusement through the crowd.

Fana leans in, “You’re gorgeous,” She says earnestly, “But i’m very gay.”

He can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him. Luckily it doesn’t get him into trouble with the bartender who is now being handed two shots of their Fire-Fuckers.

“You guys should know how this works. But in case there's any new comers in our midsts tonight. Welcome,” He charms, “Rules are: the bodies lie on the counter in nothing but their underwear, provided they’re wearing underwear.” He smirks. Everyone laughs, high on excitement. “You can do shots on any part of them, except the delicates. That you have to ask explicit consent for.” His beautiful face sobers instantly. “We don’t tolerate bullshit. I will kick you out and hang your hands on my wall of goodbyes.”

There’s a ripple through the crowd, like righteousness and indignation. Community. Nobody messes with anyone here.

“One shot per person. And for heavens sake, let’s not hurt our darling prey. They’re both gorgeous but we don’t need to kill them to get to it.”

There’s a holler of acknowledgement and then the bartender’s focus is on them.

“Names please?”

“Fana,” The lady says, smiling brightly.

“And Jason.” His voice is level, even, but there is a flush in his cheeks that give away the rollercoaster of exhilaration coursing through him.

“Okay take it off beautiful Fana and Jason.”

With efficiency, from years of slipping in and out of clothes for dance practice, he strips and hands his clothes to Frank, who is the only one that can be trusted to keep them safe. By the time he’s done Fana is tugging off her second shoe, as bare as him, save for the red lace that covered very little.

“Here, some liquid fun” The bartender hands them their two shots as the wolf whistling and cheering drown out the world.

He tosses a reckless smile to his friends and chucks the liquor back. The volcano erupts.

“Okay lie down, lie down, let’s get this party started.”

Fana holds out her hand for a high-five, camaraderie or encouragement he doesn't know, but he accepts it with enthusiasm. And then he’s lying flat on his back, half-naked, in the middle of a club, and he finally remembers who he is.

“Well hello,” A sultry voice dances by his ear. He’d recognise it anywhere.

“Piper,”

“Where do you want my mouth?”

He bites his lip to stifle a groan.

She continues, ignoring his tortured expression. “I was thinking, i’ll lick salt from here.” Her fingers brush the hollow of his throat and he shudders. “I’ll wrap my lips around the shot here,” She places cold glass over his nipple and he can’t hold in a gasp. She doesn’t bother to hide her smirk. “And i’ll take my lemon from here.” Her thumb brushes his lip and he opens his mouth on a gasp. His tongue swipes across the soft pad of her finger and suddenly he’s sucking it into his mouth. Her moan is almost inaudible and he wonders if it’s possible to die from blue balls. He’s about to find out.

“Alright everyone!” The bartender is finally standing on the floor again, “Three people per body. Take your shot, say your thanks, and get out of here.”

Jason feels heat by his head and then the man is over him. “You okay Jason?” There is true concern, and compassion in his face.

“Fine.” He grins, “Excited!”

The bartender’s gaze flicks down his body, takes in the erection straining his underwear and smirks. “I see that.”

He leaves to check on Fana before Jason can respond but it doesn’t matter because he’s too fucking elated to say anything smart back.

“Are you ready?” The sing-song voice booms around the room. The crowd screams.

“Drink a body!” The bartender yells and people descend.

He can feel someone on his thigh, and another person on the smooth planes of his stomach. But it is Piper who is fulfilling all her whispered promises that captures his attention.

She licks the salt at his throat, her dark gaze never leaving his. And as she wraps her lips around the shot glass on his chest, someone licks salt off his nipple. His back arches in surprise, in need. Before his body can register anything Piper is hovering over him, a gleam like golden deserts in her eyes. She closes the gap between their lips and bites the lemon out of his mouth. A little of the juice sprays out, down his throat, dribbles onto her chin. He wants to lick it. Someone licks the inside of his thigh instead and it takes everything inside him not to scream in pleasure.

“Bye beautiful boy.” Piper smiles, all white teeth and sin. And then a new person, with blue eyes several shades paler than his, and caramel brown hair steps into his vision. He smiles up at them and they grin back. He goes through three rounds, delicious strangers, all as gorgeous as the next, licking, sucking, biting. Making him sticky with salt and alcohol and citrus. He probably smells like a margherita and his body is wound so tight he’s not sure he’ll survive the night. It is electrifying. In the fourth round both Leo and Reyna take shots off him. Hazel decides to visit Fana and Annabeth sticks beside Frank.

The fifth round, the final round, two people immediately claim his legs and he lifts his head slightly to see them. The view below his chest is unobstructed for the first time since this started. His erection is almost painful, and it throbs as he sees twins, a girl and a boy, high-five each other over him and arrange their ingredients on his burning skin. They look like Leo, save for the brown eyes. Even from here he can see their eyes are the colours of spring, blue and green and hazel and gods the shot he had must be getting to him. Or all the alcohol spilled on his skin is seeping in. He doesn’t have time to think about it because all of a sudden there’s a face in front of him. He can think about nothing else. He doesn’t even remember his own name. Because this stanger is the most beautiful _anything_ he has ever seen. Beautiful in a way that redefines the word. That encompasses glowing, and too natural, and bright, and full of the world into it. It’s the stranger he had bumped into earlier.

“Hello,” The stranger says, and Jason swears he has an orgasm right there. Their voice is low, but not rough or even deep. It's sort of gentle and fluid and reminds him of high tide. Crashing, a swell of what could be disaster but ends up being beauty instead.

“Hello,” He chokes out. Those green eyes are hypnotic. They look almost neon, but it must be the strobe lights still whipping around the room. Nobody’s eyes were that bright in real life.

“Your name is Jason yes?”

“Yes…” He has the odd urge to attach sir to his agreement, but he reels it in. “And yours?” His voice is nothing but exhales and arousal.

“Perseus.”

“Greek tragedies.” He smirks sordidly.

The man flashes a smile and Jason honestly believes he’s going crazy. Because those could not have been fangs. There is no way.

“Would it be okay if I took the glass from your lips?”

“Trying to shut me up?” He teases. He needs to see that dangerous grin again.

“There are many more exciting things I could put between those pretty lips to keep you quiet.” The man shoots back, promises lacing every word like cocaine. He’s addicted.

Jason swallows his desire, and asks, “Where are you putting the salt?”

Long, brown fingers hover over his body before settling on the sliver of skin where his throat meets his collar bone. His weak spot.

“Right here.” The man says softly, and sprinkles the grains onto his red-hot skin.

“And the lime?” He’s not even sure he’s breathing at this point. He feels a cool wedge get shoved into his palm and his fingers wrap around it automatically.

“Feed it to me won't you?’ The gleam in those green eyes is lethal. He is already six feet under. Death is glorious.

“Last round!” Bartender calls. He barely registers the sound.

Perseus lowers his head to the hollow of his throat and his breath hitches. So he was breathing. He is not anymore.

A soft, wet tongue slides across the golden skin before lips close around that spot that makes his legs weak. Jason is grateful, so grateful, that he is lying down because when Persues starts sucking his eyes roll back in his head and he sees the neurons in his brain firing haywire.

He’s sure there will be a dark blue mark there tomorrow and he doesn't even care because that tongue is magical, and he is going to pass out from pleasure. A second before he’s about to burst Perseus pulls away, pupils blown wide enough to black out that ocean green. With a smirk that single handedly causes global warming he leans forward and wraps swollen lips around the shot glass in Jason’s mouth. They don’t break eye-contact as the glass releases with a pop and the contents disappear down a bobbing throat.

“Now for the lime,” Perseus whispers. And it takes him a second to remember his part in this. But when he does it’s like lightning in his veins. He produces the wedge between his thumb and forefinger and delicately places them in front of that luscious mouth. Perseus simply opens his mouth and wraps his lips around the lime and his fingers. The movement goes straight to his cock and he groans. Fuck. He is so absolutely fucked.

Perseus lets him go with an obscene pop and winks as he disappears into the crowd.

Jason slowly gets up, light-headed from denied pleasure and the position he had been in for so long. If he bothered to tell himself the truth, most of his dizziness came from a certain green eyed, dark-skinned god.

“Jason!” Leo’s face appears in front of him. Happy and energised and expectant. “How was it to be a body?”

“I’m horny.” Is all he can say, eyes still searching the crowd for the stranger.

“Yes the whole club knows that. I think you have like six offers waiting for you at our table.” His friend rolls his eyes playfully. “Wanna get into your clothes?”

He sighs as his attention falls back to Leo, giving up on finding his mystery man. “Maybe just my pants. I’ve got to go home and get all this off me.”

“I’m sure Piper wouldn’t mind joining you for that shower.” Leo knocked his shoulder teasingly.

He snorts as he climbs into his pants.

“To be honest i think half the club wouldn't mind. Apparently your raging erection and pretty blue hair really charmed everyone.”

“Well,” He shrugs like a bastard, and then grabs his friend’s arm and traps him between the bar and his body, “You one of those people, _Omri_?”

Leo curses a blue streak, words from languages forgotten by gods rising in his throat and spilling out. “It is not fair,” He breathes, hands grasping Jason’s chest, exploring the warm skin, and lack of clothing.

“What is not fair?” He leans in closer, so his friend has to arch back to look him in the eye.

“Not fair that you can elicit a reaction like this from me.” His voice is breathy and cracking and full of dangerous ideas.

“What do you think you do to me?” He growls out, breath fanning angular brown cheeks. “Your hands are writing stories in braille on my skin. Do you think i am cold? No, those bumps are all you and your sneaky fingers.”

“But I don't have the strength to trap you like you do me.” He pouts and Jason doesn’t stop to think as he sucks on that plump bottom lip.

“You don’t need to trap me. One look from those andalusite gems and I am bowing at your feet.”

“I love it when you get like this.” Leo breathes, tangles his fingers into his blue hair.

“Like what?”

“Fearless, reckless, unfiltered. Brave. You get brave.”

Jason laughs into his neck, “I’m always brave. I took a spider out of the bathroom just yesterday. And I only screamed once.”

He is blessed with a laugh that lights up the sky, colours of fire and autumn bursting in front of their vision.

“Come on let’s get back to the table.”

He groans, lets his head fall to Leo’s shoulder, “I still have a raging hard-on.”

“Want to go to the bathroom and we can take care of it?”

He knows his friend is serious, so he thinks about it for a moment. “No. Let's go to our friends. Have our night as it should be. If things happen afterwards, we’ll get to it then.”

So they bound to their little booth and fall into their people. Jason lands half on Hazel, half on Piper and his feet in Frank’s lap. Leo lands on Annabeth and Reyna. Piper cradles both their heads in her hands.

“Well hello you two,” Hazel smiles down at them, “How are you feeling body?”

“Sticky, but full of the best things in life.” He sighs contentedly.

“So what are we doing tomorrow night?” Reyna asks.

“I’m going to fucking sleep. You guys can wake me up when i have my masters degree.” 

“Jase, hate to break it to you my darling but none of us are going to be alive by then.” His cousin tugs at his hair.

The infamous degree in his life and that of his friends. One that was supposed to take no more than two years. But here he is three years in. He clearly didn’t have enough to drink if he is still having thoughts about his masters and how long it was taking him and how he felt trapped, trapped, trapped. But it will make his father proud. And his mother will be happy. And he can sit down at his sister’s grave and lay the certificate on the cold concrete and tell her finally, finally, finally that he did it. He wonders what she would have said if she were there beside him. He can hear her voice clear as day in his mind. “I’m proud of you Jase.” He puts an absentminded hand to his head as he imagines her ruffling his hair. _You did a great job. Are you happy?_ And he will tell her yes because when he gets this degree and pleases his father and makes his mother smile he will be happy. And they will love him and he will love them.

He sticks the middle finger up at her and drowns himself in the laughter of his friends.

“You ready to go home, _Oorage_?” Piper asks gently, stroking her fingers through his hair.

He nods and maneuvers over everyone until he’s standing and they are free to get up too.

“Where is everyone headed?” Frank asks.

“I’m going home, anyone and everyone is welcome to join.” He brushes a hand through his hair, offering a tired smile.

“I’ll go home with Jase,” Piper nodded, “Leo? You coming?”

“Nah, i’ll go with Frank and Haze since we all live on that side.”

“Reyna, Annabeth?” Jason looks at them, “Plans?”

“We’ll take a taxi together and go to Beth’s house.” Reyna answers for them.

“Okay everyone confirm on the group chat when you get home.” Frank makes the command heard and they all echo acknowledgement of it.

It was their one of two hard rules. You don’t drink if you drive. Not even one drink. And you always message that you got home.

They would not repeat mistakes. Would not go through it again.

“See you soon my darlings,” Piper waggles her fingers as she hooks her arm through his. 

“Don't forget we have brunch on Orion!” Annabeth calls. They all gave her some form of i remember and then they are out of the club and into the cool night air. It isn’t particularly cold but the contrast of blazing heat, and soft breeze hits their skin hard. With each passing step he can feel the liquor, spit, and lime sticking to his body. He needs to get home.

The frigid walk back settles the last of his spinning head and lucid limbs. It is not an unpleasant sensation but he wishes briefly that he could have lived in the feeling. The feeling of being high on life. Or maybe it was simply intoxication. Either way the night felt endless and it is a shame to lose the moment so quickly. The chilly winds of the Baridi months kiss his cheeks and as he passes by a puddle he sees how rosy red they are. It makes him look almost doll-like. His mother would like that. She was always trying to make him perfect. Like clay she could mould or wood she could carve or a picture she could draw to perfection. He knows from experience you never get it quite right.

“What are you thinking about?” Piper nudges his shoulder, fingers brushing against his. 

“My mother if you can believe it.”

She hums but doesn’t say anything, giving him the chance to go on. He doesn’t take it.

“Tell me how your expedition went?”

Most of his friends have actual jobs, or are in the process of entering their various fields. It is only him, still trying to make his parent’s proud, that continues to be the student. They all tease him endlessly about being the baby of the group.

“Oh I adored my little darlings. The term was chaos hiding in every crayon box and chair-bag but they all had these huge smiles on their faces every day and it made me feel like I could do anything.” She is far away, lost to the snowy mountains and heated classrooms where she taught toddlers how to navigate the big scary world. 

Jason looks over at her and he falls in love for the third time that night. Her eyes glow like candles and her skin flushes with excitement, as she always gets when she talks about her work.

“That's amazing.” He looks away, glances at the trees unfurling in the night air, and then back at her, “You’re amazing. Where are you teaching next?”

“I think i’ll stay here for a while.” Her smile is ever so gentle and he wants to kiss it. A terrible idea so he grabs her hand instead and starts sprinting the last few blocks to his apartment. Her laugh rings out behind him and he tastes the music like sugar on his tongue. They hurry up in a burst of adrenaline and stumble through his door with breathless amusement.

“You want chocolate mugs?”

“Gods that sounds perfect. Mind if I take a shower and hop into something less scandalous?” 

He nods, already moving into the kitchen to boil the milk, “Your clothes are in the bottom drawer.”

“You did a reorganisation again?” She calls from down the passage. He can hear the teasing in her voice.

“I was feeling antsy.”

He pictures the large chest in his room; a label on each of the drawers that marks a different friend. His own cupboards are an attachment to the bathroom and not nearly as organised. But only he sees them so he isn’t too concerned about keeping it perfectly ordered. The drawers however are meticulous- labelled and sectioned and fully stocked at all times with personal items of whichever friend; things they might need if they stay over. His house really is the hangout spot.

The groan of the shower rumbles through the apartment and he is pulled from his thoughts and back to the task at hand. The milk boils softly and he takes it off the little flame pouring it into two bowled mugs; his favourite ones in fact. They have little flowers painted everywhere and suns and moons peeking out over the fields. It reminds him of his favourite place: _Lulepolis_. Endless meadows, and flowers of every shape, size, and colour. Grass as green as forest canopies, and leaves the colour of fire. Every time he visits he never wants to leave. But he must. He always has to leave.

When the night is quiet and he lies awake in his bed, sometimes he lets his mind wander dangerously. The dreaming always leads back to one thing. A little house, in a big field, surrounded by fresh rain-scented air, and flowers by the handful to pick each morning so he can decorate the coffee table in the little living room. It is a simple life with no worries except if there’s enough wood in the colder months of Saturn to Pluto, and if the brook, which will inevitably run behind his cottage, still bubbles happily.

The chocolate balls melt in the milk as he drifts into fantasy land, safe land, happy land. And Piper finds him that way many minutes later; stirring absentmindedly, a faraway look on his face. 

“Hey,” She says softly, “I think the chocolate is just about as liquid as it can be.”

He startles, looking down at the dark swirling milk and giggles to himself. “Right, sorry got distracted.”

“Mhmm,” She eyes him. Oh no, here comes… something. “You’ve been distracted a lot lately. It’s not like you. Is everything okay?”

His face scrunches up, already gearing up to deny everything; tell her he’s fine. But then she gives him this look that says _don’t you dare lie to me i will light your favourite plant on fire_. He concedes, for the safety of Buttercup.

“I don’t know. I just feel a bit all over the place i guess.”

“With your research or life in general?”

“Research? Life? Maybe both?”

They take twin sips of their steaming chocolate and flop down on the couch as if the same puppet master controlled them. Neither notice.

“Is there anything we can help with?”

He smiles to himself. So this is a friend-group interrogation and not just a Piper interrogation. “Nothing I can think of, unless you know how to get rid of parent’s expectations?”

She gives him a wry smile, “I may know a thing or two about it but i don’t think you’d appreciate my advice.”

He snorts into his mug and shakes his head. Piper didn’t get rid of her parent’s expectations, she burned every bridge and crumbled every mountain so they may never reach each other again. “I’ll pass. I need them to support my rich-kid student life.”

She nods all-knowingly, hiding a grin, “Makes sense. They want you to do this degree they should pay for it.”

“Exactly,” He winks, and just like that the seriousness that thrummed through their words fades away.

“Want to watch something?”

“I’ll probably fall asleep right here so let me go shower first and then we can get comfy.” 

The stickiness of the bar had finally become unbearable and the thought of going to sleep with any of it on him makes him want to gag. 

The shower is heavenly: steam, and the smell of jasmine surrounds him so fully he feels it through every sense. And the mirror is fogged up again, despite the briefness of his shower. He can’t resist the opportunity to smudge out another quote into the glass.

_let us raise our voices to joy, above all else_

He laughs to himself. Hardly anything he writes makes sense but somehow the words demand to come out in a certain string and he cannot fight it to fit sensibilities. It doesn’t matter, he supposes, for they will disappear in moments. With practiced ease he jumps into a pair of soft cotton shorts and runs a hand through his damp hair. That’s about as far as his night routine extends. It is beyond lovely to feel clean.

As he steps into the passage he hears the low sound of something playing on the television and smiles when he realises it’s Piper’s favourite. The Day the Sun Became a Star. She loves this movie with her every heartbeat and puts it on at any opportunity. As if to prove his point when he steps into the lounge she is mouthing all the words and giggling at the jokes she’s heard a hundred times.

“Why am i not surprised?” He teases.

She sticks her tongue out at him but doesn’t take her eyes off the television. So he dives in beside her and pulls her body towards him until they’re lying in a tangled mess of limbs, her head on his chest, his arm around her back and laughter lighting up the room.

“You animal!” She smacks his chest gently, brown eyes dancing.

“Watch your movie Little Rose,” He pretends to be stern but the expression doesn’t hold for long.

The laughter ends in sighs of contentedness and he can’t help but feel the swell of the moment. Their eyes meet and the world slips away. Piper’s hair falls into her face, and he reaches up unconsciously to tuck it behind her ear. Her breath, chocolate and mint, fans his cheeks and he is happily reminded of their closeness.

“You are exquisite McLean.”

“Funny,” She chuckles, “I was just about to say the same thing about you.”

He brushes a thumb across her cheek and cups her jaw. There is a question in his eyes and an answer in hers but he asks aloud anyway.

“Can i kiss you?”

She is breathless when she says, “Please.”

He can’t fight the grin as he closes the gap between their lips. The kiss is a brush of skin and teeth, interrupted by their permanent smiles, but that one touch is enough. It lights up the stars in his blood. And when they meet again it is full of energy. Her lips are soft, begging him to bruise them. He bites her bottom one gently; she gasps in surprise and he giggles into her mouth. She echoes it and kisses him harder, deeper, explores the intricacies of their warmth. Her tongue dances with his and it goes straight to his cock. His hands move from her cheeks, to curl into her hair, and when he tugs gently she moans into his mouth. He takes the time to appreciate the sound and then breaks their kiss. With a whine, Piper opens her eyes, full of questions about the abrupt stop.

“I think we should go to the bedroom?”

She smirks but clambers off him. “Ever the gentleman.”

He raises a brow and in one swift motion, stands, grabs her hand, and pushes her to the wall; her back to his front.

Her gasp echoes in his ear and he smiles to himself. “You okay?”

“Is this when you prove me wrong about being a gentleman?”

He presses into her a little harder, enough that she can feel the outline of his erection. “Keep up with the attitude and I just might.”

“Oh i’m terrified.” And it’s almost a pity she sounds so breathless.

He grabs a handful of her perfect plump ass with one hand, and wraps the other around her throat; not enough to crush her windpipe, just enough that she feels the pressure of his fingers against her long, supple neck.

His lips brush against her ear as he asks, low and gravelly, “Want to try that again _Rossetta_?”

Her moan as he kneads her ass is answer enough. With a smirk he releases her and interlaces their fingers.

The minute they step into the bedroom he pulls her closer, searing their lips together. He’s not sure he’ll ever get over the taste of her: like a garden of sweet petals, mixed with the faintest hints of cinnamon and spice. It reminds him ever so amusingly of fruit cake.

The thought breaks their kiss, unable to contain his smile. Piper uses the opportunity to lick and suck her way down his jaw. There may be little red marks tomorrow but it doesn't seem important now. The pleasure, of her teasing and nipping, is too great. And every pop of his skin from her lips sends more blood rushing south. His hands dance across her body, slipping under the oversized shirt and grazing against soft warm skin. He skims the underside of her breasts and she shudders.

“You’re so soft,” He groans. And suddenly he is frantic to remove her clothes, so he can see every glorious inch of her body. 

“Can i take this off?” His own gasping gives away his desperation. But her eyes darken with lust and he realises she is more than okay with this.

“Yes,” She nods, gulping air, “And these?” She snaps the waistband of his shorts. 

He hums, already pulling at her shirt. When they finally manage to strip away their clothing they stand in front of each other breathing hard. Piper is magnificent. That is the only word that comes close to describing her. Dark brown nipples as hard as diamonds, and a shining blue stone draws your attention to her stomach which is all curves and rolls and beautiful. She stands as if she knows every facet of her body and loves each as much as the next. She stands like a queen. He cannot deny her the accuracy.

“Gods,” Jason mumbles, “You are breathtaking.”

“And you are bottled beauty,”

They come together all at once, exploring skin and reaction. He cups one of her breasts, brushing a thumb over her nipple, and her moan travels down his throat straight to his cock which gets impossibly harder. He guides her to the bed still tugging at her nipples and swallowing her pretty sounds. When her legs hit the mattress they both go tumbling.

Laughing he lifts himself up so his weight is not crushing her and stares, drinks in all that she is.

“You still okay?”

“More than,” She smiles, craning her neck to peck his lips, “You?”

“I don’t think I've ever been this hard in my life.” He mumbles, eyes flashing with heat.

She bites her lip, looking at him with wide, innocent eyes, “Oh porn just doesn’t do it for you?”

He responds by taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking. Her gasp runs down his spine and her hands are in his hair keeping him pinned to her chest. He doesn’t mind. He could happily die there. He flicks her nipple with his tongue and kisses his way across to her other breast, letting his fingers dance along the abandoned one. He takes his time worshipping her as she mutters and groans and tugs at his hair deliciously.

“Jason,” She says his name like a prayer, “I need you.”

He looks up from his meal and smirks at her, “Need me to what _Rosetta_?”

Piper’s eyes blaze with frustration, and lust. He nips at the soft skin of her stomach and sinks his teeth gently into her hip. A filthy curse escapes her. He moves down to nibble the soft skin of her thigh, brushing his fingertips over the fading red bites.

“What do you need _Rosetta_?” He pins his gaze on her, knowing she can see the desire reflecting in his own eyes. “Do you need me here?” He climbs back up and presses a kiss to her lips. “Or here?” He tugs a nipple between his teeth and she growls. “Or maybe here?” He traces his tongue around the gleaming piercing at her belly button.

“Lower,” She growls out, nails digging into shoulders as she tries to push him down.

“You mean here?” He kisses right above the faint line left by her underwear.

“Fuck Jason,” She whimpers, “Please just put your godsdamn tongue on me.”

He laughs into her skin and then settles himself down at her core, gently spreading her legs, until he can see the glistening folds of her pussy. He almost groans at the sight, covering it with an exhale that makes her shiver.

“Jase,” Her voice is nothing but air.

He puts her out of her misery. With a wicked grin he gives a long lick along the folds of her pussy. Her gasp is lightning in his veins and it takes everything in him not to sink every inch of his cock into her heat right then. Instead he latches his lips around her clit and holds a smile when she curses loudly and tangles her fingers in his hair, gripping so hard he can feel the sting in his scalp. It only spurs him on. He licks and sucks and grazes his teeth ever so gently on the sensitive nub of nerves.

“You taste so good _Rosetta_ ,”

“Like what?” She murmurs, looking straight at him.

“Like mine.”

Her head falls back on the pillows with a sigh and there is nothing but need pouring between them. She looks like the sin he so happily commits. He trails a finger across her folds making her moan. He wants to hear the noise again, so he slowly inserts one finger into her and when he starts pumping slowly her whole body shudders. He swirls his tongue around her clit and adds another finger, pumping faster.

“Gods Jase, yes, right there.” Her fingers sneak down to rub her clit and he almost comes on the spot. She chases her orgasm, and she looks ethereal. Eyes shut, mouth slightly open, brown skin shining, and her hair splayed across his black pillows. He curls his fingers inside her and hits the spot that has her spewing filthy words.

“I’m so close,” She moans, playing her clit like a guitar, expertly, enough to make her sing.

He pumps faster, enjoying the wet sound of her pussy and decides to push her hands aside to suck on her clit himself.

“Come for me _Rosetta_.” He growls.

And she detonates around his fingers, with a cry that is half his name and half a curse. It is the most beautiful sound he has ever heard. He slows down his pace but doesn’t stop as she rides out her orgasm, shaking and shuddering. When she lets out a sigh he knows she has recovered enough for coherency.

“Are you okay?” He pulls himself back up and leans over her, so his blue hair brushes against her forehead.

She gives him a satiated smile and mumbles a yes.

A gleam enters his eyes, “Then suck _Rosetta_ ,” And he puts his fingers in front of her lips, fingers that were inside her only seconds ago.

She looks him dead in the eye, renewed want flashing across her expression, and takes them into her mouth. He is fucked. She swirls her tongue, sucking off every drop of her and then pulls him down so they can taste her between their lips. Sometime later she repeats the motions on his cock and he comes so hard he sees the planets in the next galaxy. He is so completely fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!  
> Y'all this is a hella long chapter, i promise they wont all be this long.


	3. Aarde House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Navigating the fic  
> Months: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto  
> Days of the Week: Aquila, Lyra, Auriga, Draco, Orion, Mensa  
> Seasons: Baridi (W); Caldu (S); Mezi (between)  
> OC pronunciations: Elouan || El-oh-uhn; Keeya || Key-ah; Hoku ||Ho-koo; Serafina || Ser-ah-fee-na; Aarush || Aah-roosh

Perseus steps onto the creaky wooden floor of his ostentatious 16th century mansion and mentally reminds himself for the two-hundredth time that he needs to get someone in to fix it. The worst thing about being immortal, he has come to learn, is that he procrastinates everything ten times harder. At least his teenage self would be impressed with his tactics, even if his mother was rolling in her grave.

The house is unusually quiet for an Orion morning and he strains his already sonic hearing to catch the sounds of silent footfalls and bustling bodies. But the wind rushes through the space and there are no other noises. A flutter gives in his chest as he steps into the kitchen to find breakfast waiting for him and a note folded neatly next to it.

_Hey Doc,_

_Twins have gone to Bharatanatyam class and Hoku went to the beach. I’m just picking stuff up at the grocer, be home in a jiff._

_\- Keeya_

He releases a breath and sits down at the table with a smile. The delicious smell of eggs and blood hit him as he takes off the cover to reveal a plate of eggs benedict, hash-browns and a small glass of ichor. He shoots down the blood, content to let it work through him as he gobbles down the heavenly breakfast. He knows Keeya cooked because she was always experimenting with food, always in here creating dishes and making them beg to eat whatever is giving off that sublime smell. Just as he cuts into a hash brown he hears the door shut and hurried footsteps rushing towards him.

“To the Sun,” Keeya flurries into the kitchen, face blocked by brown paper bags stuffed to the brim with what he’s sure to be her latest concoction.

“Amongst the Stars,” His lips twitch in amusement, “Early morning?”

“I couldn’t sleep so i-” Her voice muffles as she busies herself packing items in the pantry, “-thought I’d start on breakfast but while i was looking for an eggs benny recipe i came across this golden cake and-” Her head pops out of the pantry, black eyes flashing with excitement, “Doc when i tell you i almost died right there, it sounded so good. Anyway of course i had to leave immediately to get all the things we didn’t have.” She finally collapses onto a stool across from him and takes a breath.

He hides a laugh and waits for the rest of the story, because with Keeya there is always more. 

“Anyway i get to the shop-” She starts. He covers his inescapable laugh with a cough. “And they don’t have desiccated coconut. Can you believe that? I mean it’s the main ingredient in the damn cake. So I was panicking a little because it’s the closest shop open at that time, the others I'd have to take a train for which is so inconvenient?” She gives him an incredulous look. He nods seriously; inside he is fighting off giggles. “But they found some in the back, thank the stars, and then I just grabbed a few things because it’s ‘make your own pizza’ night and I think some people from the Araw house are joining us.”

“Sounds fun, is Elouan going to be here?” He pops the last bit of poached egg in his mouth and looks at her expectantly.

She makes a disapproving face, “No, he’s off with his new partner. I don’t trust them at all.”

“Why?” Perseus is on guard immediately, fingers curling, hair sensitive, and gums stinging with the need to unsheathe his fangs. 

“Their vibe is off,” Her nose scrunches up, “Like they’re used to getting into trouble and bailing out.”

“I’ll tell Elly to be careful but maybe go with him next time Kee,” He suggests, a tentative look in his eyes as her own widen.

“All we’ll do is argue, and besides, he hates me hanging out with his friends.”

“Ever asked him why?” He has a feeling about it but he’ll never voice it. No, the two can come to their own conclusions. After all, they had forever to figure it out.

“I don’t care _why_. He’s a dick and I'm not interested in anything he has to say.”

He shrugs but leaves the conversation, and the kitchen, so Keeya can do her thing. He has some admin to do anyway; a dreary task but one that must be done all the same. Besides without the twins and Hoku the house is absurdly silent, so he needs something to occupy himself.

His study is actually a little desk situated in their library. It’s his favourite room in the house for the opulent fireplace that stays lit through Baridi and serves as a soot-slide in Caldu, and of course the books which although he doesn't read many of, remind him of his mother. He has been alive for almost three hundred years and there is hardly a day that goes by when he doesn’t think of her. For every part of him that isn’t human, there’s a part of her that makes him so. He stares up at the portrait of her hanging near the doorway, painted by a friend long gone and with a loving smile gets to work.

He sorts, and signs, and stamps, and notes in an endless cycle until finally his finances are in order, his donations are chequed and his letters are sealed. He’s sure Hoku will groan endlessly about receiving yet another letter under their pillow and try to explain that email is much more convenient and faster for everyone. Perseus tilts his head to the ceiling and watches the stars dance as he plays out the conversation in his head.

_“Doc, I really appreciate the effort you put into sending us letters but this is not the eighteenth century, just use email.”_

_“Hoku i like the letters, they’re personal and calming to write.”_

_“Doc, emails are more convenient and i can take them anywhere.”_

_“Okay I’ll stop giving you letters. I’ll just give the others.”_

_“What? No? That’s a terrible idea. I still want my letters.”_

And they would have the conversation every month without fail. It is a rather amusing part of the routine and sometimes Perseus purposefully makes Hoku’s letters a little longer, just to bother them. A secret best kept as such, but funny nonetheless.

“DOC!” A voice screams through the house, shattering his ear drums.

The twins.

He steps out of the library, and half jogs to the source of the noise, which he discovers is coming from the entertainment room. 

“To the Sun, you two.”

Serafina looks up first, her brown eyes shining with never-ending energy. The anklets on her feet jingle as she runs towards him and slams her body into his. He holds firm as he catches her and wraps his arms around her shoulders.

“Amongst the Stars,” She mumbles, face buried in his shirt.

“How was Bharatanatyam?”

She gasps, stepping out of his embrace and squealing with delight. “Doc we have to show you what we learnt! Aaru come!” Her dark eyebrows knit together as she focuses on her brother.

“Tusa Aarush.” Perseus smiles, squatting down so he’s level with the boy. A little hand, the colour of cherry wood, reaches up to give him a high-five. A standard greeting for the quiet brother; a complete opposite to his outgoing sister.

“Aaru are you ready?” Serafina comes to stand beside them, after setting up the sound system.

He nods and moves so they’re in the middle of the room. Quickly they do the opening prayer before Serafina bounces to the sound bar and presses play. The sweet, sturdy music fills the room and then they're going through a whole routine. Stamping their feet in a rhythm that matches the beat perfectly. Aarush pinches his fingers and fans them out. A closed flower opening, he recognises. They do a series of moves all impressive and beautiful, before the music fades and they pose, breathless with exertion and excitement. 

He claps enthusiastically and opens his arms for hugs. “You did wonderfully!” Serafina slams into him. Aarush gives him another high-five. “When is the performance?”

“Not for a long time Doc.” The little girl says, as if he should know this. She heads off to fiddle with the speakers. 

“In two months,” Aaru answers. His voice is clear and even. He is quiet but not soft. “In Pluto.”

“Ah, I'll make sure I have it down in the calendar.” The little boy's face lights up like a stadium and Perseus’ heart clenches with love. The twins had only been living with him for half a century but within the first year they had him completely wrapped around his fingers. Their claimed age is ten but their true age is one hundred and two. He found them shivering behind a dumpster in Orman, their skin stretched across their bones and that rabid look of underfed vampire in their eyes. He had taken them in and given them blood and a bed for the night, which turned into a week, and then a month. Before he knew it he was bringing them to this house in Roshani where they had immediately fallen in love with the city and made it their home.

“Fina, i’m going to shower.” Aarush states and without further flurry he leaves.

“Is everything okay with classes? All of them, not just Bharatanatyam.” Perseus asks the talkative twin.

“Yes,” She nods, unclipping her anklets. Her voice lowers, serious bleeding in. It is hard to forget their age, true or claimed, when this happens. Because suddenly their bubbly little girl who flits around the house and talks your ear off and throws herself into everything with the vivacity of a ten year old, disappears. In her place is the century old girl who has experienced more of life’s pleasures and hardships than most of the world can only begin to imagine.

“We’re covered for everything. And Aaru starts teaching a new linguistics course on Monday so he’ll have some cash to fling around. Although,” She rolls her eyes, “We all know he’ll just put it in his account and let it sit like a fat cat.”

He laughs, flicking her nose at her distaste for her brother’s complete lack of spending. “He likes to invest in stocks and give it away. You know he doesn’t hoard.”

“I know i know,” She grumbles, scrunching her nose, “I just wish he’d spend some on himself.”

“I think he thinks you spoil him enough.”

“I don’t spoil him _nearly_ enough. Most times I try to buy him something and he just shuts it down. Like last Draco i tried to buy him that new puzzle he was talking about and he just slammed my laptop shut.”

She looks so put out he can't help but giggle, and when she scowls at him for it he pulls her in for a hug and kisses her head. “He likes to do things _with_ you. Maybe try getting things you guys can do together.” She brightens at that, and he can see the gears turning in her sharp mind. “Alternatively, save up all the buying for special occasions like Birthdays or Turning or Koro day.” She hums in acknowledgement but her thoughts are still going a mile a minute so he steps out and lets her work it through.

The house is alive again: Keeya is still in the kitchen, and by the sounds of it Hoku too, begging for something. Elouan still isn’t in and he cannot stop the trinkle of worry that falls between his ribs. Trying to keep it out of his mind he walks towards the noise and is greeted by the site of countertops covered in dishes filled with all sorts of delights. The smell is enough to put him in a coma. And Hoku sits on the counter, pale blue eyes puppy-wide with pleading. He glances to their wrist and sees the sunshine yellow band. She/her today then. It gets exhausting, she had told them, to continuously have to announce yourself to the world, especially when you didn’t know how the world would react. 

“Hoku,” Keeya sighs, “I am not giving you the poli until you go and change. You smell like seaweed.” The coconut-stuffed pastry pockets sit on the counter, still piping hot from the oil they had just been fried in. 

“Awww come on Kee, i just need one. I’ll pass out in the shower if i don’t get it and then it’ll be all your fault.”

Keeya’s eyes roll so far back he’s worried she’ll get them stuck behind her sockets. But they roll forward and give Hoku a very pointed glare.

“Get your ass out of my kitchen and go and shower, you irritation!” She scolds; rendered a little ineffective by the flour smeared across her cheek which is a startling contrast to her brown-scapolite skin.

“You are the absolute worst.” Hoku sulks as she slides off the stool and trudges to the entrance. "Tusa Doc.” The sigh is heavy and he struggles to keep in the laughter threatening to spill past his lips. It is never a dull moment in the _Aarde House_. Perseus collapses onto the stool Hoku had just vacated and lets loose the smile he had been trying to hide. Keeya returns it with one of her own and then launches into a conversation about her latest creations.

Hours later they had moved from food talk, which made him unfathomably hungry, to her teaching, to his own escapades and ideas. She laughed as he recounted the night out he had some weeks ago and the beautiful blue-haired person he had taken a bodyshot on. But soon the sun is sinking to the city floor and the people in the house emerge from their various rooms to congregate in the kitchen, which serves as the house hangout spot. Keeya had packed most of the food away, save for a loaf of fresh bread and the poli Hoku had been begging for. She puts the kettle on and starts up the coffee machine, chattering away as she did. 

Aarush shuffles into the room and immediately takes up a spot next to Perseus. Serafina and Hoku walk in next talking about knee pains and sore feet.

“Did you guys bother to put ice packs or kinaesthetic tape on?” Keeya raises an eyebrow. They both stick their tongues out at her, and move to sit on the opposite side of the table.

“Hoku,” Aaru settles his brown eyes on her, “Will you teach me how to do the splits? My Bharatanatyam teacher says i need to learn to be more flexible.”

Hoku is already nodding enthusiastically, “Of course A, i can absolutely teach you. But you should know flexibility doesn’t come from doing the splits it comes from muscle control and ligament manipulation.”

“I read up about it but i don't feel confident enough to try on my own.”

A gleam enters Hoku’s blue eyes, “You should come with me to a ballet class. Elouan is doing piano for us next week in preparation for our concert coming up. We’ll be able to get the studio to ourselves for a little while.”

“Sure,” Aru shrugs, “Sounds fun.”

“Why didn’t you ask me for help?” Serafina tugs her twin's sleeve, looking at him with hurt in her eyes.

“I didn’t want to bother you, and besides Hoku teaches ballet I figured she’d be the best bet for me.”

Serafina looks like she’s going to say something, argue maybe, but then the last of their little household walks in and conversation drifts.

“Past the Moon, Elouan,” Perseus smiles at the oldest of the group, save for him.

A floppy smile transforms a pasty face. As he hobbles towards them, leaning heavily on his walking stick, he mumbles a round of greetings.

“How are you?” Keeya asks once he’s settled into a chair next to her.

“I could do with some food and maybe some blood but otherwise just peachy.” His moonlight white curls fall into his face and he pushes them back absentmindedly.

“Can we finally have the poli now?” Hoku glares at their baker, rebellion already flashing in her blue eyes.

“Dig in you little heathen,” Keeya shoves the plate towards her and they all descend. 

Tea and coffee are passed around as well as small glasses of blood for any of them that need it. Perseus and the twins refrain, having had their fill at some point during the day but they happily dig into the coconut pastry and drink copious amounts of coffee.

“So,” Elouan says around a mouthful of poli, “Who’s coming with me to the Red Queen tomorrow?”

“Me!” Hoku shouts immediately. Ever the party animal.

“I’d love to.” Keeya mumbles behind her tea, suddenly shy.

“No thanks.” Aarush pulls a face and goes back to stacking the knives into a precarious tower.

“Fina? Doc?”

“I have to work on stuff for varsity but maybe next time.” Serafina shrugs a shoulder, her brown eyes glazing over as her mind goes back to working a mile a minute.

“I’ll let you know after our dinner tonight. I think some of the Houses want to call a meeting tomorrow to discuss funding and housing in a few cities.”

“You should invite them along,” His white eyebrows knit together in thought, “You guys should invite anyone you want.”

“What’s got you so friendly?” Keeya gives a suspicious look.

“Arrow said they wanted to meet you.”

Her face pulls into something resembling horror, “Uh never mind i think i have stuff to do, maybe next time.”

Elouan pins his honey eyes on her and they look more like the sting of the bee than the gold of the nectar. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“I don’t trust them.” She bites out, setting her mug down with a hard crack.

“You don’t even know them. You’re just being judgmental because they’ve turned a few innocents.”

“It’s not just that Elouan,” Where he is the sky, Keeya is the earth. “They are leading you to the dens and soon you’ll be following in their footsteps.”

Perseus was content to ignore their argument and continue talking to everyone else or eating his way through the feast, but that angered whisper steals his attention. “You’ve been going to the dens?”

“I went twice and i didn't even do anything.” He rolls his eyes.

“It’s not about what you do El,” Keeya’s voice is lethal with fury, and worry. “It’s about what gets done in there.” 

“It’s not safe Elouan. Not only for you but if something happens you put a target on all of our backs. And I will not have you endangering anyone in this house just to look cool for your new partner.” There is no compromise in Perseus’ hard green eyes.

The younger vamp sees this and nods once. “I won’t go to the dens again, Doc.”

“Right now that we have that sorted,” He leaves no room for further say on the topic, “What do you need us to do for dinner before the _Araw House_ gets here, Kee?”

He sees her hide the emotions still burning in her eyes before she claps her hands and puts them to work. And when the members of the Araw house arrive there is no lingering anger suffocating the kitchen. It is bright and loud and messy. It is home.

“Tamo, tamo, everyone!” Musical greetings come from the front of the house and a few seconds later Drew Tanaka and Charles Beckendorf appear in the doorway, as radiant and deadly as always.

Drew looks devastating in a blood red jumpsuit and a gold choker glittering at her neck. Charles has a hand wrapped around her and looks just as sinful in an emerald green suit lined with the most startling azure. His wedding band glints in the soft yellow lights of the kitchen and the two rubies encrusted in it match the band around Drew’s finger.

“Towards the Moon, old man,” Drew sits down with the grace of a dancer who has been perfecting their art for centuries. 

“Who are you calling old man?” Perseus scoffs, “I’m only one month older than you. Besides Charlie is the old man.” 

The subject in question rolls his eyes and shoves both their shoulders, flashing his fangs. His wife just laughs waggling perfectly sculpted eyebrows that suggest more than any of them are willing to interpret.

“Where’s the rest of your chaotic crew?” He motions to the lack of people that usually surrounded them.

“They’re all busy tonight, something about the Safe Haven Sound.” Charlie shrugs, “I’m actually surprised none of you guys went. It was apparently some big event.”

Hoku makes a face that means trouble. Nobody stops her. “It’s mostly for new vamps trying to enter the world. There’s a lot that can go wrong. We tend to stay away.”

Drew turns to her sharply, “Who runs it?”

“The Underboss.” Hoku makes another, more disgusted face.

“Actually,” Keeya says quietly, “It’s the Underboss’ lackey that runs it. The Underboss just owns it.”

“Ugh i hate that slimy little shit more than my ex.”

“Hoku,” Serafina frowns, “Give Luke some credit. At least he was hot.”

Perseus lets a smile loose at that. “Octavian is not ugly, he’s just ghaunt.”

“Doc,” Elouan raises a brow, “He is a ghost.”

“Literally? Aarush frowns, the first thing he’s said since their guests arrived.

“No,” Drew has a contemplative look on her face, “At least i don’t think so.”

“He was part of the Trials.” Charlie adds “That’s what i’ve heard anyway.”

Perseus shudders inwardly as he remembers those dark times. Power-hungry people, people who had no right to participate in their world, had taken it upon themselves to try and create their own supernatural creatures. It was a horrible, terrifying time for humans and _duniyarall_ alike. They had stopped it before it had become the war it intended to be but it was deemed unethical to kill the products of those experiments. So, even today, a century and a half later, there are still Triallers- as they had been so creatively named- roaming, existing, living. For the most part they seem to be peaceful, despite being created for violence, but there are some like the Underboss’ lackey that still give an off-vibe; like feral is just around the corner, one blink away.

“How about we make some pizzas?” Keeya interrupts their conversation before they dive into what will inevitably become a two hour discussion.

“Let’s!” Serafina claps her hands, and Hoku matches her as they hop up and dive towards the fridge where cut and readied ingredients sit.

The evening is chaotic, and bright and full of laughter. They discover that between all their years of life, none of them had ever learnt how to toss pizza dough. Charlie and Keeya make a deal to go to Italy and learn before the decade is out. Drew sees the trip as a chance to get a tan in the beautiful Italian heat, and be fed delicious food straight from her husband’s hands. They make the most of the evening, a rare and peaceful one that recharges the energy in them like bolts of lightning. Perseus hasn’t felt this content in many many moons. 

Soon enough, however, it is just Elouan, Charlie, and Drew sitting on the velvet couches of their lounging area, chatting quietly as they sip various expensive liquor.

He looks at his friends, the gentle glow of the chandelier striking their features. They are beautiful. It is a warm kind of beauty, noticeable in the softness of an expression, or the happiness of a moment. They’re angelic.

“Doc?” Elouan drags him out of his quiet admiration.

“Sorry?”

“Drew and Charlie were just discussing what to do about the hotel on Palace road,” The moonlight caught in his hair ripples as he speaks. “They wanted to find out if you’d be okay with extraction?”

Perseus nods, considering the angles, the necessities

“I don’t feel it’s right to go in armed.” Charlie looks around the room, that composed intensity washing over them. “They’re children, and they’re probably scared.”

The frown between Drew’s perfect brows deepens. “I heard there’s cubs and sangrinos inside.”

“Who’s getting them food? How do they leave? What’s keeping them there?”

A loud ding sounds from someone in the room, and Elouan scrambles to reach his phone. The screen is bright in the dimly lit space and he has to blink hard to adjust his eyes, but then he lets out a curse and rushes towards the door, leaning deeply into stick as the anger worsens his limp.

“Everything okay El?”

“Just Arrow.” He waves it off, “I’ll be back before sun.”

Perseus just nods, watching as the large wooden doors slam shut behind the vampire. When he hears the front door bang, he stands, bowing to his guest in a sign of quick return and steps out of the room in search of members of their household.

“Keeya, Aaru.” He calls from the parlor.

They arrive within seconds, her with a face mask on and her dressing gown half tied, and him with charcoal smudges on his cheeks, and a loose paper in his hand.

‘Doc?” Keeya frowns, sensing the urgency in his aura.

“Elouan just stepped out to help Arrow. Please will you two trace him, make sure he isn’t going to the dens. Don’t make yourself known until you know it’s safe.”

“Armed?” The steel reflecting in Aarush’s dark eyes calm Perseus’ nerves.

“No.” He doesn’t need to cause trouble with the Underboss. “Just make sure Elouan is okay. No violent blood is spilled tonight at your hands.” The volatile expression on the little vampire’s face lessens only a fraction. They both nod at him and disappear into their rooms to ready themselves.

He goes back to the lounge, and continues his discussion with his friends. When he hears the front door close, the quiet click echoing in his mind like a drum, he tells Charlie and Drew what is happening.

Drew, ever the mother, is immediately righteous, demanding she send out some of her pack as scouts. Charlie just holds her hand and looks to him with that expression that so often graces his face: how can we help?

Perseus smiles at Drew and her anger, understanding how she feels. “It is okay Tanaka,” He reassures her. “I’ve got it covered. We should talk about the children.”

She growls, and he can hear the wolf in her throat. “You _will_ let us know if you need help Perseus.”

“Yes,” Even Charlie looks adamant, unstoppable. “We will not be in the dark again. Not when it comes to our own.”

He breathes, and it has taken two centuries to get here. To this moment. “I will ask for help if the time comes.”

“The Underboss is holding them in the hotel, and bribing them with food to join her army.” Just like that they move onto the next problem. The next call for help.

“Well then,” Perseus grins, and it looks like the first signs of destruction, “i guess we’ll be paying the _Queen_ a visit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me your thoughts, beautiful human!


End file.
